SAVING LEONATA

Chapter Six

Regan struggled for control as the SUV swerved around a corner tires screeching against the asphalt. The police roadblock had transformed their escape into something far more desperate. No longer just evading unknown operatives—they were now fugitives from law enforcement. Almost like a physical pressure the seriousness of the situation weighed heavily on Lilas's chest. Despite the chaos she spoke in an unnervingly steady voice

“We have to abandon the car. They’ve probably already traced the plates."

Regan nodded, his eyes constantly flicking between mirrors. "Three blocks ahead. Parking garage. Multi-exit structure."

His efficiency was both reassuring and unnerving. This wasn't his first time evading pursuit. Lila wondered if he had gained his experience hunting down or assisting people like her.

A concrete monolith providing temporary refuge the parking garage loomed ahead. Regan hurriedly picked up a ticket from the automated dispenser as he pulled in. The barrier lifted with agonizing slowness.

"Third level," he said, accelerating up the ramp. "Less surveillance, multiple stairwells."

Lila's mind raced ahead, already calculating. "We split up after abandoning the vehicle? Classic misdirection?"

"No." His response was immediate and firm. "They're too coordinated. Separation gives them a tactical advantage."

The SUV found a space between two delivery vans, offering momentary concealment. Regan turned off the engine and grabbed a small backpack from under his seat.

“Change of clothes,” he said passing her a baseball cap and dark hoodie. "Public cameras are looking for what we're wearing now."

She was struck again by the practicality of his preparation. “You've been planning this she said, not inquiringly but accusingly. He corrected, already draping another jacket over his shoulders.

“I've been preparing for contingencies” he acknowledged. "They are different."

They changed quickly, efficiency trumping modesty. The change was subtle—barely enough to throw off facial recognition systems and passers-by. As she tugged the hoodie over her head, Lila noticed the look on his face. Not leering, not even particularly interested in her as a woman. His gaze was tactical, assessing their odds.

"You mentioned Braxton," she said finally, the name still bitter on her tongue after all these years. "How do you know about that?"

"Not here." His eyes constantly scanned their surroundings. "Too exposed."

"You don't get to decide what I—"

The distant wail of sirens cut through her protest. Police vehicles entering the garage.

"Exit strategy. Now," she demanded, professional training overriding personal questions.

"Service corridor, northeast corner." He shouldered his pack. "Leads to an employee exit. From there, two blocks to the subway."

They moved like shadows, practiced and deliberate. Not running—running attracted attention—but walking with purpose. The kind of movement that security cameras might register but human observers would dismiss.

The service corridor was unmarked, accessible through a door labeled 'Maintenance Only.' Regan produced a universal key card, the kind used by building services. Another sign of meticulous preparation.

"Who are you really?" Lila asked as they descended an industrial stairwell, footsteps echoing metallically. "Not just someone who 'knows what happened.' What's your stake in this?"

"Professional curiosity that became personal interest," he replied, voice low. "I was hired to find Leonata Lancaster."

The admission should have triggered immediate flight, but something in his tone kept her moving beside him. "By whom?"

"Your uncle. Victor Lancaster."

A chill ran through her, sharper than fear. "Victor sent you? And you're helping me escape instead of delivering me to him? Why?"

They arrived at the base of the stairwell. Regan raised a hand to signal silence, pausing to listen carefully before he pushed open the exit door, leading them into a loading dock.

"Because I did my research," he finally answered as they emerged into weak sunlight. "The financial transfers after the explosion. The deleted security footage. The convenient way Victor consolidated control of Lancaster Holdings within hours of your family's death."

The meaning lingered in the air—unspoken, yet impossible to miss.

"You think my uncle—" Her words faltered, the sentence left hanging.

"I think the truth runs deeper than the official version," Regan replied cautiously. " And I think that only you truly understand it."

Slipping into the commuter traffic they headed for the subway entrance. Due to the crowds' close proximity, the air was humid and heavy below ground.

Perfect cover.

They stepped onto a downtown-bound train, choosing to stand near the doors for a swift exit if necessary. As the subway jolted forward, Lila turned her attention to the man standing beside her. Not traditionally handsome, but striking. Intelligence evident in his eyes. Danger in the way he held himself, like a weapon perpetually sheathed but never truly at rest.

"Braxton Facility," she said quietly, the words nearly lost beneath the rumble of the train. "How much do you know?"

"Military research installation, officially decommissioned in 2019," he replied, eyes constantly moving, scanning other passengers. "Publicly listed as a weapons development site. Actually a black-ops human enhancement program."

Lila felt her stomach tighten. He knew more than most.

"Twenty-seven dead in what was reported as an equipment malfunction," he continued. "Actually a m******e. And you were present during the incident."

The subway car rocked, and Lila's grip on the rail tightened, her knuckles paling. "Yes, I was there," she whispered. "However, I am not responsible." Regan's steady gaze held hers. "I realize that. The timing doesn't make sense; you couldn't have been in two locations simultaneously. Yet, someone made a significant effort to implicate you."

"How could you possibly know where I was?" The question emerged sharper than intended.

"Your father's appointments calendar, recovered from Lancaster Holdings servers. You were with him in Tokyo when Braxton went dark. There's digital evidence—security camera footage, passport control scans."

The train slowed, approaching the next station. Regan tensed slightly, eyes on the platform as it came into view.

"Three men, north end," he murmured. "Tactical stance. Not subway police."

Lila saw them immediately. The same practiced vigilance she'd observed in their previous pursuers. Professional hunters.

"This is our stop," Regan decided, as the doors opened.

They exited with the crowd, moving against the flow of incoming passengers to create confusion. Without speaking, Lila matched his pace, understanding his strategy. Use the crowd as cover, but don't run. Running would trigger pursuit instinct.

The operatives were scanning the departing passengers methodically. One of them looked directly at Lila, then away—then snapped his attention back, recognition dawning.

"Compromised," she whispered.

Regan responded instantly, his hand finding the small of her back, guiding her toward a different exit than they'd planned to use. The gesture might have seemed intimate to observers—a couple changing their minds about direction—but it was pure tactical guidance.

"Emergency exit, south tunnel," he directed, voice calm despite the urgency. "It'll trigger an alarm but buy us fifteen seconds."

The pursuers were already moving, communicating through discreet earpieces. Coordinating to cut off escape routes.

"Too late for that," Lila assessed, her training taking over. "Incoming train. Platform C."

Understanding flashed between them, a shared tactical awareness that required no further explanation. They changed course, pushing through commuters toward the adjacent platform where a train was just arriving.

The doors opened. Passengers began to disembark.

" "Let's go," Regan urged, and they pushed forward, sliding onto the train just as the doors started to shut. Their pursuers, abandoning any attempt at being inconspicuous, sprinted after them, but they were too late. The doors sealed shut, and the train lurched forward, leaving them behind on the platform.

Temporary reprieve. Nothing more.

Lila allowed herself three deep breaths, the technique her father had taught her for managing crisis situations. Assess. Adapt. Act.

"They're tracking us more effectively than random sightings would allow," she said, mind racing through possibilities. "Traffic cameras wouldn't give them this precision."

Regan nodded grimly. "I've been considering that. Check your clothes, your bag. Anything that might conceal a tracker."

She began a methodical search of her belongings, fingers probing seams and linings while appearing to simply organize her bag to casual observers.

"You said Victor hired you to find me," she said as she worked. "When?"

"Five days ago."

A cold realization settled over her. "That's when the Director's position at Lancaster Holdings came up for board vote. Victor needed proxy control of your shares to ensure his candidate won."

"Your shares," Regan corrected. "Legally, you still own twenty-eight percent of Lancaster Holdings. With you dead, Victor controls them as executor. With you alive but under his influence..."

"He maintains control while appearing to honor family legacy," she finished. "Classic Victor manipulation."

The train slowed again, approaching another station. Both tensed, preparing for potential threat.

"Nothing on my end," Lila reported, having found no tracking devices. "You?"

Regan shook his head. "Clean. Which suggests they're using something else. Maybe facial recognition on security networks."

"That would require high-level access. Government-grade."

"Yes," he agreed. "It would."

The implication hung between them. Whatever they were caught in went beyond corporate power plays or family betrayal. This had tentacles reaching into the highest echelons of power.

"Why are you helping me?" Lila asked suddenly. "Victor Lancaster doesn't seem like the type to accept failure gracefully. You're risking a lot."

The train doors opened at the new station. Both watched carefully, but saw no signs of their pursuers.

"I've spent fifteen years finding people," Regan replied, his attention still focused on the platform. "Most of them deserved to be found. Some didn't." He paused. "I make my own assessments about which category someone falls into."

"And I don't deserve to be found?" The question was barbed, testing.

His eyes then met hers, his expression straightforward and firm. "You deserve justice. Not whatever Victor has planned."

The doors closed. The train moved on.

"I can't go back to being Leonata Lancaster," she said after a long moment. "That life is gone."

"I'm not suggesting resurrection," Regan replied. "I'm suggesting confrontation. Finding evidence of what really happened at Braxton. Exposing whoever framed you. And bringing down whoever murdered your family."

The enormity of what he proposed washed over her. For three years, she'd been running, hiding, surviving. The idea of turning and fighting seemed almost unthinkable.

"That would require resources I don't have anymore," she said. "Access I lost when I 'died.'"

"I have resources," he countered. "Contacts. Methods."

"Why would you risk that for me? For this?"

A subtle change in his expression indicated that his professional manner was being tainted by something personal.

"Because 9 years ago, I messed up," he confessed quietly. "I discovered someone who was hiding for a valid reason and gave them to individuals who..." He looked away, unable to finish. "I've learned from that."

The train emerged into the sunlight, offering a view of the city below—a scene of normalcy contrasting sharply with their current crisis. "We need a secure location," Lila resolved. "Somewhere off-grid to regroup and plan."

Regan nodded. "I know a place. But we'll need to switch transportation methods at least twice more to ensure we're clean."

"And then?"

"And then you tell me everything about Braxton," he said. "Everything you saw. Everything you know. Because whatever happened there three years ago, it's not over."

"No," Lila agreed, her gaze turning to the city beyond the train windows. "It's just beginning."

The train hurtled forward, carrying them deeper into uncertainty. Behind them, the life Lila had carefully constructed as a shield against the past. Ahead, the confrontation she'd been avoiding for three years.

And beside her, a man she wasn't sure she could trust, but who represented her only chance at survival.

For now, that would have to be enough.